Saving Kim
by semmerman14
Summary: Kim and her cousin Grace are two cousins that have lived in Seaford their whole lives. One day 3 bachelors move in across the street. Will romance brew up or will things end in bad news. Sorry bad summary!
1. Chapter 1

Sorry I need to put my other story on hold right now because I just got another idea for a story.

Desclaimer: I do not own kickin' it or Saving Grace by J.M. Hill

Enjoy

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Kim's POV

I felt ridiculous, but this didn't keep me from watching the house across the street. Through the slant of the wooden blinds at our front window I peered, hoping to see someone. Usually I'm not the nosey type, but the excitement and anticipation of new neighbors had me so curious, I was spying through the blinds like Lucy or Ethel.

This morning a huge moving truck parked in the middle of our semi-private drive for over five hours, while a crew of six burly men in ugly gray jumpsuits unloaded furniture for the new residents. Residents I had yet to see. On the bright side however, I was able to take inventory of some rather statiated my newly-discovered voyeuristic tendencies, to some extent.

My cousin Grace, and I have lived here our entire lives, and we've shared the private drive wiht only one other house. The Jenkins' place. It stood empty for over ten years, until about four months ago. A construction crew appeared one day and began working non-stop, refurbishing the dilapidated house that was somewhat of an eyesore. The once sad, depressing, two-story, red-brick dwelling was transformed into a much more pleasant sight. A new porch with a black, wrought-iron railing that streched across the front, black shutters framed tall, paned windows, and a massive garage extended for the right side of the house big enough to contain several vehicles.

We're a little pessimistic about new neighbors and very curious.

The shrill of the phone made me jump, and I sprinted to the kitchen, knowing it would be Grace.

"Hey, Kimmy!" Grace's voice chirped on the other end of the line, barely stopping to take a breath. "I'm on my way home, are you ready to watch the game? Are you hungry? I've got Phil's!"

"The game's on, and I'm starving!"

"Anything new going on across the street, Ethel?"

"Nothing whatsoever, Lucy," I replied. "And why am _I_ Ethel?"

She sniggered. "See you in a minute."

Shamelessly, I returned to the front window to peek through the blinds again. Still nothing. I'd been disgracefully lazy all day, so I went to the laundry room to start a load of dirty clothes, then to the kitchen to get plates and drinkss on the table. When Grace came through the front door, she had falafals in one hand and mail in the other. We sat down and I dished out the falafals while Grace opened her soda, eyeing me expextantly.

"So what did you do today?" she asked, knowing exactly what I'd done.

"Nothing really. Although, I did just put a load of laundry in the washer, so I guess that's something."

"Mm-hmm," she hummed. "And you did surveillance on the house across the street." She took a sip of her soda and I shrugged. Grace attempted 'casual', but she was just as eager to see who was moving into that house as I was, and I knew it. She tapped a steady rhythm against her plate with the fork, but I pretended to be oblivious. When dinner was finished, we retreated to the sofa to watch the Yankees game-already in the bottom of the fifth-and after a moment Grace heaved an exasperated sigh.

"So?"

"What?" I asked innocently, and she glared at me with irritation.

"So... you haven't told me what you observed today." Her head tilted in the direction the house that I'd been watching for most of the day. "Come on, I need details!" She was whining now. "What kind of furniture do they have?"

Deciding to end the torture, I began my surveillance briefing. "Typical bachelor furnishing. Lots of leather and dark wood. Pretty expensive stuff. Oh, and a drafting table, and a couple of desks. I figure they're setting up a home office."

"I heard they own their own design firm," Grace interjected. "But you haven't seen anyone?"

"Nope."

"Well, whoever they are, I hope they're friendly." She'd barely finished her sentence when we heard the low rumble of a car engine come up the drive. Grace's eyes widened with excitment, and I'm sure I mirrored her expression. In a flash, we were both off the couch, peeking through the blinds. Lucy and Ethel.

Three vehicles pulled single file into the over-sized driveway, and parked inside to garage, side by side. Grace and I know little about cars. We bought a new Jeep last year, and the only reason we chose that particular vehicle was because we seen one in a movie and thought it looked cool. Grace insisted that it be red, because according to her, we both looked great in red. Car aficionados we're not. However, these cars were easily identified. The first, a colossal silver Hummer. The second, a shiny, black Yukon Denali. The third, a deep blue Audi.

We watched with anticipation as two men exited the Hummer and the Audi, strolled to the middle of the driveway and scanned the area. It was obvious they were brothers. They were both quite good-looking. Grace and I looked at each other with shocked expressions and turned back to the window again.

The driver of the Hummer was huge. I mean, professional-wrestler-scary huge. At least six-foot-six, at least. His ginger hair was wavy and hung in short, loose curls **(looks like Milton in the show)**. I noticed he laughed a lot-a loud, booming laugh that made his whole body shake. There were also embedded dimples on both sided of his mouth, so big they made me grin. The faded John Elway jersey he wore caught my eye-I had an identical jersey in my closet, waiting for football season.

"A Broncos fan," I said, voicing my approval.

Grace giggled. "Excellent."

The driver of the Audi was nearly as tall as the Broncos fan, but probably more like six-four, and dressed impeccably in a black pullover that displayed a nice physique. He resembled the big guy in an amazing way. Same dimples, but he had dark hair that was cropped short **(looks like Jerry in the show)**.

"Twins?" I wondered aloud.

"Possibly," Grace responded thoughtfully. "He's adorable."

I laughed. "Which one?"

"I'm referring to black-pullover-guy."

"No agrument there," I said.

The third man emerged from the Yukon then, one hand shoved inside the pocket of his dark jeans as the other raked through his hair as he joined the other two at the center of their driveway.

A strange knot formed in the pit of my stomach.

Not as tall as the first two, he stood about six-two, his hair a rich shade of brown with no curl of wave at all. It was tousled and messy, with a small section that kept falling over his forehead just to be pushed back with another rake of his hand. He resembled a model from the glossy pages of _GQ,_ exuding sexiness and something else I couldn't quite pinpoint **(looks like Jack in the show)**.

The three continued their discussion, then in a synchronized motion turned to face our house. The big guy said something that made the other two laugh. After a moment they stopped laughing and focused intently on our window.

"Crap!" Grace threw herself against the side wall in an effort to hide. "Do they see us?"

I didn't care. I couldn't take my eyes off the third one, who shurgged out of a black leather jacket revealing a lean, muscular build. He was truly stunning.

"Get away from the window!" Grace whispered frantically as if they could hear. "I think they see us!"

I ignored her and watched them walk single-file into their house. Grace slid down the wall to the floor, grasping at her chest dramatically, as if having a heart attack. Once their front door closed, I stepped away from the window and stood over her holding out my hand.

"These guys must be models, or actors, or something," she said, taking my hand and pulling herself upright.

I only shrugged, still a little stunned. Grace hooked her arm with mine, and we walked to the couch, flopping down next to each other. We sat in silence for a short moment, then at the same time looked at each other and laughed giddily.

Once we caught our breath, I tried to be serious. "Well, we have to be realistic here. There's no way these guys aren't attached to someone. I mean, they're just too... pretty."

"You're probably right," Grace agreed with a sigh. "But if nothing else, they'll give us something nice to look at every day, right?"

I definitely couldn't argue that point.

*****Line Break*****

My alarm went off at seven o'clock as usual, and as usual, I cursed it to eternal damnation as I reached over to turn it off. I hated running on Sundays, but I made myself do it anyway. I rolled out of bed and went into my bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. I dressed in my running gear, smoothed my hair into a ponytail, grabbed my running shoes and iPod.

While I sat on the front porch and pulled on my shoes, I couldn't help but glance at the neighbor's house, curious about the new occupants. As I made my way to the gravel drive, I chose the playlist for my run and started a slow jog.

Though Grace and I are alike in many ways, running is where the similarities end. I've always loved running, while Grace thinks of the activity as a slow kind of torture. Of course, Grace doesn't _need _to run either, she burns enough calories just being Grace. Most of the time, she reminds me of a hummingbird trapped in a shoebox; always doing everything at a high-rate of speed, with endless amounts of energy.

"So What" blared in my ears and I sang and danced, louder and with much more enthusiasm than was necessary, while I ran. I could never help myself when I heard this song, it always made me smile and dance, even while running. Solitary runs seemed to bring out my inner-dancing-diva.

When I turned at my three mile marker, I spotted him. Navy running pants, gray 'NYU' sweatshirt, hair in a sexy state of frenzy, an amused grin on his face, less than twenty feet away, jogging toward me. I felt all the color drain from my face as I realized he'd been running behind me for the last three miles, witnessing my overly-energetic love for all things musical.

I stopped singing. I may never sing again.

He got closer, not changing his pace. The closer he got the wider his grin became, and the more nervous I became. With effort, I managed to put a large amount of space between us, nodding politely as we passed each other, and before I could help myself I glanced over my shoulder at his retreating figure. At thay moment, he did the same. I snapped my head around so quickly I think I gave myself whiplash.

_Crap!_

Now, on top of everything else I was just caught ogling, and my neck hurt.

When I walked into the house Grace was at the kitchen table sipping coffee, reading the newspaper in her fluffy pink robe, and fuzzy pink slippers that made her feet look much larger than they were. I poured my coffee, adding the necessary sweetner and cream, and sat across from her. She slid the sports page across the table for me, and I opened it up right away looking for MLB scores.

"Pettitte is pitching today, two o'clock," she informed me, preoccupied with some article she was reading. "We have time to get breakfast and do our grocery shopping."

I took a long sip of coffee. "You'll never guess what happened on my run today."

"Did you save Muffin again?" She asked, sounding bored.

Our elderly neighbor, Miss Whitt, lived two miles down the main road and owned approximately twenty cats, including Muffin. Of all those cats, Muffin was the only one who managed to constantly get stuck in trees, and I managed to be the one to constantly save him. I don't even like cats that much. I also think his name is stupid.

"One of these days you're going to fall out of a tree and break your neck," she continued without looking up from the paper.

"No, I didn't save Muffin again," I said. "But I did see one of the new neighbors. You know, the good-looking one?"

She snorted a laugh. "They're all good-looking."

"Okay, good point," I said. "But, I'm referring to the one with the brown hair."

"Did he talk to you?"

"No, I didn't really give him a chance." I felt my cheeks redden as I thought about what happened.

Intuition flashed in her eyes and she giggled. "Dancing again were you?"

I nodded.

"It was P!nk, right?" she asked.

This time she nodded with me.

"Yep, that song gets you every time," she said. "But, 'So what/ I'm still a rock star/ I've got my rock moves, and I don't need you'!" She bounced in her chair as she sang the stupid song that was the cause of all my trouble.

"Very funny," I said, irritated. "I just madea total idiot of myself in front of our new neighbor!"

"Relax. It's not a big deal," she said dismissively.

Grace and I had been together our entire lives, and I learned at an early age that very few things rattled her. When we were four years old, our mothers began teaching us piano. After they died, Uncle Rudy arranged to continue our lessons with a teacher form the University, and we excelled at a rapid pace. We loved playing. We played our first recital when we were eight, in the gymnasium at the local high school. Grace had already performed flawlessly, but I cried in the corner of the girls bathroom, terrified of all the people who were going to be watching. She found me and spent ten minutes trying to calm me down by quoting our favorite lines from "I Love Lucy", "Hello, Friends, I'm your Vitameatavegamin girl! Do you pop-out at parties? Are you unpopular?" Because of Grace, I was able to take the stage that night, though she sat on the piano bench beside me while I preformed.

"When do you think we should introduce ourselves?" Grace asked, unfazed by my humiliating event.

"I think we'd better wait a while," I replied. "I'm so embarassed."

"Oh, big deal." Grace said exasperated. "So he saw you shaking your booty. He probably would've seen it eventually anyway. You dance all the time when you run."

She was right, but it didn't make me feel better. At all.

*****Line Break*****

Less than seventy-two hours after our neighbors moved in, Grace made an announcement.

"I think we should go over and introduce ourselves. You know, a welcome to the neighborhood type thing?"

Frankly, I was suprised it had taken this long.

"Sure," I agreed. "Or maybe a welcome-to-the-neighborhood-you're-all-incredibly- gorgeous-and-we're-your-incredibly-single-totally- non-stalkerish-neighbors type thing. I wonder if we could fit all that on a cake?"

She laughed. "No, but we should introduce ourselves and take some kind of house-warming present. You could make some of your homemade bread."

Truthfully, I didn't need much convincing. I wanted to meet them, too, despite my recent humiliation. I went into the kitchen and pulled an apron over my head. I do make good bread.

Grace clapped happily, strode to the stereo to turn on music, and I got busy. While the dough was rising, we decided to mix together a batch of Grace's chocolate chip cookies. After discussing the size of the big guy, we figured bread by itself wouldn't be enough.

I brushed the warm, golden brown loaves with melted butter and set them in a basket lined with a white tew towel. We put Grace's cookies on a plate, covered them with a plastic wrap, and place them inside the basket. I also whipped up some cinnamon-butter-a necessary accompaniment for homemade bread-while Grace slid a gift card for our shop, between the cookies and bread. We went to my bathroom to check our hair and wipe any remnants of bread and cookies dough from our face. Grace grabbed the basket, we took a deep breath and walked across the drive to meet the new neighbors.

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**Hope you enjoyed it! Please review what you thought of it and if I should continued.**

**love ya semmerman**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here is chapter 2! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Kickin' It or Saving Grace by JM Hill or anything you see in the story!**

**AN: the story is going to be in Kim's POV through out the entire story.**

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We climbed the steps slowly to the Anderson's front door. Well, _I _climbed slowly, Grace kind of skipped. She pulled me next to her and smiled encouragingly as she rang the door bell confidently. The door opened, and the big guy stood there with a huge grin on his face-dimples and all-as he looked at Grace first, then me.

"Hey there, neighbors!" His voice was loud, and I know my eyes widened when I saw how huge he actually was, because he was... huge.

"Hi. I'm Grace." She smiled as she stretched out her hand, and he shook it enthusiastically. "This is my cousin, Kim."

"Hi there, Kim." His giant hand shook mine gently, but with the same enthusiasm. "I'm Milton Anderson. Do I smell bread?"

Grace and I both stifled a laugh. You can never go wrong with homemade bread.

"Yes, actually you do." Grace held the basket out in front of her. Milton took it, and brought it closer to his face inhaling the aroma wafting from the bread. Just when I thought his smile couldn't get any bigger, it did.

"Homemade? Are you kidding me?" His eyes widened with what I recognized as 'food-elation'. Grace and I often have a very similar reaction over Haagen-Dazs or cheesecake.

"Kimmy makes excellent bread, and she does it from scratch," Grace bragged. I nudged her with my elbow, but she just continued. "We don't want to intrude, we just wanted to introduce ourselves."

"You're not intruding at all. C'mon in." He stepped to the side, and Grace pulled me through the doorway.

"Hey, Jerry! Jack! We have company!" Milton hollered from behind me, making me flinch. I turned to look at him and he winked as he shoved an entire cookie in his mouth. I had to laugh. This guy was massive, and surprisingly un-scary. I liked him already.

We followed Milton inside, and I was impressed at how orderly their house seemed to be, espeically for three guys. There was a staircase in the foyer to the right of the front door, leading to a loft that opened to the living room below. The layout of the main level was very similar to ours. The modern kitchen opened to the living room, with a large breakfast bar surrounding by sturdy leather barstools. Tall windows made up most of the wall in the kitchen and eating area. To the right of the kitchen a hallway ran along the back of the house, which I assumed led to the bedrooms.

The walls were white with dark stained crown molding that matched the hardwood floors. Their furniture was rich, dark brown leathers and woods, and thick rugs in neutral colors accented areas of the floor. There were several large black and white framed pictures of land and seascapes that decorated the walls, as well as built-in shelves full of books, CD's, a bery intimidating stereo system, and family photographs. A plasma television was mounted over the fireplace, there were hardly any accessories. Everything simple, clean, and masculine.

As Milton led us into the living room, we were meet by the 'adorable one', and I was pretty sure that should be his name.

"Jerry, this is Grace and Kim," Milton said, as he pushed yet another cookie into his mouth. "And they brought food."

Jerry shook his head at his brother and then he smiled kindly at us. "It's wonderful to meet you both." He put his hand out to me, and then to Grace. His gaze fixed on her as they shook hands, and she smiled her sparkly-Grace-smile at him.

"And how did you know to bring food for him?" Jerry tilted his head toward Milton, who was now sitting on the sofa studying the gift card with his mouth full.

"Lucky guess?" Grace said with a giggle, and Jerry watched her intently for a moment, then motioned for us to sit on the sofa.

"The Open Book Cafe?" Milton asked, turning the gift card over.

"That's our shop in town," Grace explained. "It's a bookstore and a coffee shop."

"Great! Thanks!" Milton said excitedly. Clearly, he was easily pleased.

"I've actually been in there," Jerry said to Grace. "You two own that place?"

Grace nodded with a smile.

"You have great coffee," he said.

I couldn't help but look around for the 'stunning one', but he was nowhere to be found, and part of me was relieved. The embarassment form that morning still fresh in my mind. Milton pulled the small dish of cinnamon butter from the basket, and brought it to his nose.

"What's this?" His nose wrinkled.

"It's cinnamon butter for the bread," I told him. "It's really good when the bread is warm."

He looked at me apprehensively.

"Haven't you ever had cinnamon-butter before?" I asked.

He shrugged, and I stood from the couch.

"Shall we?" I asked him, gesturing toward the kitchen. He smiled widely as he picked up the basket, and we walked to the kitchen together, leaving Jerry and Grace deep in their own conversation.

"Do you have a bread board?" I asked. Milton scanned the kitchen for a moment, his lips pursed together as if concentrating, and then looking down at me with nonplussed expression.

"Okay, I don't even know what that is."

I bit the side of my mouth trying not to laugh. "May I?"

Milton nodded and watched me with his arms folded across his massive chest. I searched the kitchen for the necessary equipment, finding an unused breadboard and a knife. I spread some of the cinnamon butter onto a warm slice of bread and set it on a plate, sliding it in front of him. Without hesitation he shoved half of the piece into his mouth and chewed. I waited, anxious for his reaction and wasn't dissappointed. His eyes rolled into his head as he slid slowly into one of the barstools, shaking his head.

"Good?" I asked.

"This is the best bread I've ever had. You made this?"

I nodded. "You want another piece?"

"Hell yeah," he said excitedly, and then cleared his throat. "I mean, yeah."

I laughed as he pushed the rest of the slice into his mouth, and fixed him another piece.

"Tomorrow morning, toast the bread and then put on the cinnamon butter. You'll like that even more."

"Okay, I'll trust you." He winked as he finished his second piece. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." I walked back into the living room and Milton followed carrying plates of chocolate chip cookies, sitting next to me on the sofa. Grace and Jerry were still deep in conversation as Milton turned on the TV. Monday Night Football was geting started, and Hank Williams Jr. asked it we were ready for some football. I loved that. The Raiders were taking the field against the Chargers. "I hope the Chargers kick their asses," I muttered.

Milton chortled and turned to me with a raised eyebrow. "You like football?"

"Yes, I like football." I've always felt a little insulted when guys presume I don't like sports just because I'm female. Milton seemed entertained by the idea.

He chuckled. "Sorry. I didn't mean to offend you, I just don't know many girls that like sports."

"Well you know at least two now," I informed him. "Grace and I love football."

"Really?" His tone was dubious, and he grinned smugly. "NFL or college?"

"Both."

"So who do you like?"

"NFL or college?"

He snorted a laugh. "Well, let's start with college and move on from there." His voice was thick with sarcasm, though he tried to look serious. I knew he was challenging me, but I was okay with it. Thanks to Uncle Rudy, Grace and I had always been able to hold our own in any football discussion.

"Pac-ten or the SEC?" I asked, settling in for the challenge.

He cocked an eyebrow at me in surprise, and shrugged, no longer amused.

"Okay, how about if I start with the Pac-ten, and...move on from there." I raised an eyebrow as I repeated his words. Milton's eyes narrowed as I began.

"Our family had four generations of USC grads, including our parents, so our devotion to the team is in our blood. People said their divisionn is weak, but did you know SC has the most BCS Bowl wins and appearances in their conference? In the past ten years, they've had fifty-six players selected in the NFL draft, thirteen of those players going in the first round? In the last three years alone, an average of nine SC players are chosen per season." I focused my attention on the television casually, as I continued. "As far as the SEC is concerned, I've always liked University of Florida. They look great this season, and I love watching them kick Georgia's tail. Oh, and for the NFL, it's the Broncos, all the way. Win or lose." I smiled in conclusion while Milton processed everything I'd said. Slowly, a huge grin spread across his face.

"Very nice." His voice was appreciative as he nodded.

"I think you just got told big brother."

Milton guffawed as I turned to see the 'stunning one' standing near the sofa in blue jeans and a black t-shirt. His eyes were green, and they held mine as he smiled a crooked, beautiful smile so sexy, it was difficult to look away.

I decided 'stunning one' should definitely be his name. Definitely.

"Hi, I'm Jack Anderson."

"I'm Grace." I stood to shake his hand.

"It's nice to meet you." His voice was soft, his hand was warm and strong.

"It's... um, nice to meet you, too. This is my cousin, Grace," I said, trying to break whatever kind of crazy, hypnotizing, voodoo spell he'd just cast over me. "We're your neighbors."

"Yeah, I know," he said, with an amused grin.

_Geez. _Of course he knew we were neighbors. I flushed with my stupidity. He shook hands with Grace, then studied Milton for a moment.

"What are you eating?" Jack asked Milton.

"Chocolate chip cookies. Why?" Milton mumbles with his mouth full, and tucked the almost-empty plate of cookies into his side protectively, as if afraid Jack would take them away.

Jack scanned the kitchen. "Do I smell bread?"

"Yep. Kim here made us some homemad bread, and these cookies." Milton pushed another cookie into his mouth.

"Actually, Grace made the cookies," I corrected.

"That was very nice of you," Jack said. "Did my brother eat all the bread, or is there some left?"

Milton snorted. "No, I didn't eat it all, but you'd better get some while you can because I make no promises. And you need to have Kim fix you up with some of that cinnamon-butter. Trust me."

Jack looked at me expectantly. "Cinnamon-butter?"

"I made some for the bread," I responded, and turned my focus back on to the TV.

"Well, aren't you going to fix _me_ up?"

Something about his voice and the way he looked at me, made me nervous.

"Sure." I stood from the couch and followed Jack into the kitchen. "Since I was just in here with your brother, do you mind..."

"Go ahead." He nodded with that same grin, and sat on a barstool. He watched with his chin resting in his hand as I spread a piece of the bread with cinnamon butter. His expression was impassive as he took a bite of the still-warm bread. He chewed a couple of times, looked at the bread in his hand, and back at me. I waited for him to say something, but he just smiled widely and continued chewing again. I took that as a good thing. After a moment his silence became unsettling, so I busied myself with wiping crumbs form the counter being careful not to drop any on the floor.

"Thanks for the bread," he finally spoke. "You're quite a cook."

I heard a buzzing sound, and he pulled a iphone from the pocket of his jeans, pressed a button and set it on the counter.

"So, what do you do?" he asked as he continued to enjoy his piece of bread, keeping his eyes on me.

"We-Grace and I-own the coffee shop in town," I replied. "The Open Book Cafe?"

He nodded with recognition. "Jerry and I have been there." One side of his mouth turned up. "Which part do you own? The coffee shop, or the bookstore?"

Was he trying not to laugh? I began to worry about smudges on my face, or something hanging from my nose.

_Please, not that._

"We're equal owners, but I take care of the bookstore."

"You like books?"

"I love books," I amended.

He leaned back, folding his hands behind his head. "Well then, I'll definitely have to check out the bookstore next time."

"You like to read?" I couldn't help the incredulity in my tone, but he didn't seem like the type to spend free time with his nose in a book.

"You don't think I read?" he asked with a smirk.

I shrugged. "I don't know."

He chuckled quietly and his phone vibrated again.

"Excuse me," he said politely, and pressed the phone to his ear as he disappeared down the hall.

I returned to the living room and stood by the arm of the sofa where Milton was watching the game intently.

"Who's winning?" I asked.

"The Raiders," Milton grumbled in disdain.

"I hate the Raiders," I muttered in equal disdain. "They're playing the Broncos in two weeks."

"Yeah, I know. Should be a good game," He said. "You gonna watch it?"

I snorted. "Does it snow here?"

Milton laughed loudly as Jack came into the room wearing the black leather jacket I recognized from the first time I saw him standing in his driveway.

"Where ya goin', little brother?" Milton asked.

Jack raked his hand through his hair, and glanced sideways at me before answering. "I'm meeting Donna," he said. "Kim, it was nice meeting you. Thanks for the bread."

The stab of disappointment I felt surprised me. Why should I be disappointed? I didn't even know him. Besides, he was too pretty not to be with someone.

"You're welcome." I forced a smile and watched him say goodby to Jerry and Grace, and walk out the door.

_Hmph. Donna._ No doubt Donna was just as gorgeous as him.

"We should go, Kimmy," Grace said. "It was great meeting you guys."

Jerry and Milton followed us to the front door.

"Thank you so much for coming over. It was wonderful meeting you both," Jerry said, his voice full of sincerity. I knew he was talking to both of us, but he kept his eyes on Grace.

"Remember what I said about the bread in the morning, Milton," I reminded him.

"I'll remember," he said.

We descended the steps of the porch, and we glanced at each other sideways. Grace waggled her eyebrows. We both flopped onto the sofa and Grace gazed up at the ceiling, while I turned on the football game.

"Are you okay?" I asked her.

She nodded, and then closed her eyes. "He's so sweet".

"Garrett?" I teased, knowing she was talking about Jerry.

She rolled her eyes. "Jerry," she said dreamily.

"He's pretty cute." I nudged her.

"He's just...pretty," she amended.

"Yeah, they're all pretty," I said. "I don't think it's normal for men to be that pretty."

"You were right about Jerry and Milton being twins," she said, ignoring my comment. "They're twenty-six, and Jack is twenty-four."

I nodded, sure that she had more.

"Jerry is a Structural Engineer, Jack an Architect and Milton a Project Manager. The business was started by their dad, but he's recently retired. They do most of their work from their house now, and run the business themselves. Their parents live near the Springs, and spend a lot of time traveling." Grace probably got more information in a thirty minute conversation then most people would get in a month. "They lived in Seaford for almost a year and decided they'd had their fill. They're originally from New York." She sighed. "I guess that's all, except, did I say how incredibly sweet Jerry is?"

I had to laugh at her dreamy expression. "Yes, you mentioned that part."

There was definitely something different about the Andersons. Milton was funny, Grace made it clear that Jerry was 'sweet', and Jack...well, I couldn't be sure, but he was definitely something.

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**Hope you liked it! **

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**Thank you to those that had reviewed on the first chapter. **

**Did you know: After I post each chapter, I go straight into the next chapter.**


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